


Gone Fishing

by Metal_Chocobo



Series: Need a Hook [1]
Category: Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fishing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Chocobo/pseuds/Metal_Chocobo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julie agreed to go out for a drink, but Caro took her fishing instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone Fishing

“Good job ladies, great hustle,” Caro shouted, clapping as the team homed in on the assistant coach. She occasionally slapped a woman on the shoulder or back for encouragement as they filed past on their way to the locker room. “Mills is waiting for you all.”

Once the last girl stepped off the ice only Julie and Caro were left. As the most junior coach it was Julie’s job to finish collecting the equipment, so she was surprised Caro hadn’t headed into the locker room yet. Usually she liked to listen to all of Coach Miller’s post practice talk. She wondered what Caro was waiting for.

“Chuey, you wanna get that drink tonight?” Caro asked.

Julie stood up and blinked in surprise. Sure, they had agreed that summer during training camp to get a drink some time, but Julie hadn’t actually thought Caro meant it. She certainly hadn’t at the time. However, now that they were here in Duluth they had become a united front shaping these girls into the best team possible. The team had only been together for a month and a half, but she could already tell she was part of something special. Julie was surprised to find herself nodding yes.

“Great, I’ll give you a lift,” Caro said, turning to rejoin the team before Julie could respond.

After she finished cleaning up and showered Julie jogged out to Caro’s car. She felt self-conscious. Her hair was still wet and she wore her wrinkled old Harvard sweatshirt. She hadn’t expected to go out tonight; otherwise she would have dressed up a little nicer. Caro was waiting for her and just unlocked the car before climbing inside. Julie followed suit.

She didn’t say anything. Just started the car and waited for Julie to strap on her belt before pulling away. Caro talked a fair amount during practice, but Julie got the sense she preferred silence. They hadn’t really talked before or spent any time alone together. This of course made Julie want to fill the silence with nervous chatter, but she didn’t know what to say, so she stayed silent. However, when Caro turned north on Woodland instead of toward downtown Julie spoke.

“Where are we going?” she asked. Caro didn’t speak, but she might have grunted. Julie rolled her eyes and leaned back against her seat. If Caro wasn’t going to tell her she’d just have to wait. She could do that.

Julie was less certain about her decision when Caro eventually pulled off the main road onto a dirt path. While she was confident Caro wasn’t going to butcher her or anything crazy like that, U Duluth and Team Canada did perform background checks, Julie was uneasy about being taken into the woods. As a city girl she wasn’t overly fond of trees. She couldn’t imagine a bar being at the end of this road. 

“This is not a bar,” Julie said after Caro turned off the engine.

“No,” Caro agreed. She popped the trunk and pulled out a pair of folding chairs.

“Where are we?”

“My favorite fishing hole. Found it a few years back.” Caro tossed Julie an orbed candle. “Light that, would ya? I don’t want to get bitten up.”

Before Julie could ask how, the Canadian threw a lighter at her too. She let the taller woman set up chairs, a cooler, and to her surprise, a pair of fishing poles. Caro gestured to the rickety chair on the right then plopped into the left one. Julie sat down more slowly, relieved to find it supported her weight. Caro opened the cooler revealing iced beer and a small plastic container. She cracked a can open, handing it to Julie before getting one out for herself. Then she stuck it between her knees so that she could pull out the container.

“What’s in that?” Julie asked, hoping that it was hummus and Caro would magically produce chips.

“Bait,” Caro said, cracking open the lid.

The Canadian pulled out a fat pink earthworm then passed the container to Julie. She grimaced, brushing away the papery soil store-bought worms always came in, to get out a one of her own. Once she had the squirming worm between her fingers she paused.

“Do you need help baiting your hook?” Caro asked. Her worm was speared at least three times with the tail carefully disguising the barbed tip of her hook. With a well-practiced flick of her wrist she cast her line into the center of the pond. Her bobber landed with a plop and sent out a perfect ripple.

“Oh no,” Julie said, rapidly performing the unpleasant task. She copied Caro’s motion, but her line landed much closer to shore. “I just dislike using live bait.”

“Aw huh.”

They lapsed into silence again. It was a warm pleasant afternoon in late September, perfect weather to fish while sipping a beer. Soon Julie would be on the road every weekend, either for the Bulldogs or the Whitecaps, and while she loved hockey, she didn’t relish driving hundreds of miles every week to pursue it. That knowledge made her treasure her down time even more.

Hours trickled past. Caro didn’t say anything, so Julie didn’t either. The birds made up for their silence. She couldn’t see any in the woods, but they called out continually. Julie wondered if she would learn any of the native birdcalls while she lived in Minnesota. That would be a neat trick to show her parents.

She stared at her cheerful red and white bobber as it rode microscopic waves. It was hypnotic. This was why Julie didn’t react when her bobber suddenly went under until her pole jerked out of her hands. She yelped, but picked it back up and began reeling.

“Do you need any help?” Caro asked. Julie shook her head; worried she looked incompetent.

“Actually, hold my beer?” she asked, changing her mind.

Caro removed the can from Julie’s lap before it spilled. Julie reeled frantically, twisting the rod back and forth to lessen the tension and pull the fish closer. With Herculean effort on her part bobber and fish flew out of the water. It hurtled toward Julie’s face, but Caro caught it before it hit her. Julie grinned as she accepted the fish, but then the smile faded. It was a sunny about the length of her hand, something far smaller than the amount of trouble of catching it suggested.

“Huh, thought it would be bigger,” she said.

“They always seem like they should be,” Caro agreed. She pulled out her phone and lifted it hesitantly. “Do you want a photo? I think that’s too tiny to keep.”

“Sure, first catch,” Julie laughed.

She held the limply wriggling fish up for the photo then handed it over to Caro. The Canadian reached into the fish’s mouth and, with a sharp jerk, removed the hook. Then she tossed the sunny back into the pond. It lay stunned on the surface for a moment then dived, quickly making an escape. While she cast her line again, Julie declined baiting her hook. One catch and release was enough.

Julie slurped her second beer as twilight fell. They hadn’t talked since Caro threw back her fish. It was a really nice way to pass the time and—maybe it was two beers on an empty stomach—but Julie felt a lot better about the other woman in general. Caro was solid, dependable, and hard working. Julie could admire her for that. If she hadn’t been her Canadian rival they would already be friends. Maybe that would happen now that they were coaching together.

When the sun had fully set Julie wondered how much longer they would stay. It was getting cold and she didn’t think their DDT candle would last much longer. Then Caro reeled in her line, which Julie quickly copied, ready to go.

“Shh, hold up,” Caro whispered, grabbing her arm. Julie waited, hoping this was worth it.

She was not disappointed. Suddenly several large birds landed on the pond. In the light of the moon she could see their dappled black and white backs as they dived underwater. One bird lifted its head, showing off a white neckband just under its black head, and let out a laughing trill.

“What are they?” Julie laughed, suddenly certain this was why Caro had brought her here.

“Loons. They’re Minnesota’s state bird and nocturnal,” Caro explained. “I found out they like to nest at this pond during my first year here. That’s why this is my favorite fishing hole, even though the fishing’s terrible.”

“This is so cool,” Julie breathed.

“Next time I’ll take you someplace where we can really fish,” Caro promised. “Sounds good, eh?”

“That sounds perfect.” Julie beamed at her. Caro smiled back shyly. Julie couldn’t wait.


End file.
